


Little Ears

by LeVen



Series: A Million Memories Washed Ashore [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Family Issues, Family Secrets, Gen, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeVen/pseuds/LeVen
Summary: If one wanted to win a game of politics, the royal family had every noble family in their arsenal to complete the job. If one wanted to win a battle, they would invite the Havermoons.





	Little Ears

If one wanted to win a game of politics, the royal family had every noble family in their arsenal to complete the job. If one wanted to win a battle, they would invite the Havermoons. With so much magical blood running through their veins, Malachi could only just begin to wrap his head around the myriad of generals and war heroes within the family. 

He wasn’t much good at swordplay, not as a child. Not until he neared young adulthood. By the time he was of age, all three of his sisters had long since surpassed his level of training by the time they’d come of age themselves. When Malachi’s weak constitution strengthened, Osran took it upon himself to oversee his training. The man was a taskmaster with little to no regard of how used to the work his only son was. The end result left him constantly bruised in both body and pride. And since Osran Havermoon took on no other pupil, Mal had only himself to compare to. Since he was such a failure, the shame cut deeper. His uses were in gentlemanly pursuits: writing, and scholarly subjects. Even if he’d never see real battles (more unlikely with the reign of peace, but the Havermoons were always restless to simply oversee farmers), at least he’d be useful in something. 

In times of distress, he’d often seek out Ankaurk. They were kindred souls, Sanetra often claimed in the times they were seen together. He was often very soft with Mal, spoiling him any chance the man could in sweets from the kitchen or praise. With as little attention as he got, it was a small wonder Mal gravitated towards the man. Ankaurk was foreign, a stranger to Venia. As such, he had no real means to make his own life away from the family. As far as Mal knew the man had served the Havermoons long before he was born. Likely since he was a young man. Somehow, there was always something familiar to Mal about the man.

Mal thought he had a kind smile. Ankaurk had simple pleasures in his life and never carried much. Even when the young Havermoon became childish and whined, he never once complained about carrying a child much too old to be held and carried about. It didn’t matter how busy the man might have been with his own tasks, he’d stop and listen. 

Malachi sat in the yard, curled up on a ledge with his arms wrapped about his legs and sniffling. They didn’t speak for a long time- Mal staring across the manor’s expansive grounds and Ankaurk chopping wood for the evening’s fire. The only sound between them was his soft blubbering and breaking wood. Ankaurk was still in the prime of his life, and at fifteen, Malachi was exactly half the age of the servant. He still looked every bit as handsome as when he was a young man. 

“You think too much.” He says, finally. Ankaurk’s long hair was falling out in places. He stops to wipe the sweat from his brow with a brown rag. The embroidery across the edges frayed and was nearly gone, but it was still clearly Sanetra’s work. How long ago had she made it for him? 

The young man squints, his suspicion making him laugh. It’s enough to break the dignified silence Malachi tried to compose about himself and smile. “You and I, we hold on to thoughts longer than everyone else.” His accented voice lilts playfully, breathless from his labor. He laughs again. “I wonder just how long you’ve held onto your thoughts before you came to me.” 

Easy and everyday troubles were left to Sanetra. Yara, if she was in the mood. The third sister listened to him more than Masha or Frija, she didn’t scowl and ignore his existence. Still, it felt wrong of him to annoy her. Malachi didn’t know when it started to happen, but when there was something he couldn’t shake, only one person he came to for help. Most of the time, he didn’t even realize he was doing it. 

Momentarily Malachi looks uncomfortable, but he shifts his position until his legs are hanging over the edge of the half wall facing Ankaurk. “Why won’t you talk about Edrua with me? You said you had a son, right? What happened?”

He knows the moment he asks this he makes the man sad. He always seemed to look sad when his homeland was mentioned, or anything relating to his early years with the Havermoons was brought up. A perpetual sadness seemed to linger there, and it always perplexed him. 

Ankaurk stops chopping wood places the ax to the side and pulls out the band holding his hair together. “It was a long time, my young master. He was lost to me, and now I can only pray to the gods to spend the next life with him.”

This makes Mal sad, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but never did Ankaurk lie to him. He straightens his back. “Then I’ll pray too, but not too quickly. Who else would remind me to lace my boots in the morning?” The half-smile returns to Ankaurk’s face, and he tsks. 

“Silly boy. One day your mother will bind your boots to your feet so you’ll never lose them again!” Or worse. Hadn’t his punishment for not eating his supper resulted in him going barefoot for a week last winter? It didn’t seem fair, everyone knew he couldn’t stand the thought of eating rabbit. It was served that evening. Mal never knew what was punishment and what wasn’t. 

Malachi frowns. The servant notices this, and gently holds his wrist. “Worry not, little ears. I still owe you your favorite small pies.” He couldn’t remember what he did to earn the treat from him. Certainly, Lilliana wasn’t one to treat any of her children. The nickname, however, came about after Frija made him skin the rabbit he loved so much. The boy had gotten a minute into the first cut before he’d sobbed. Sanetra compared him to a rabbit, and somehow the pair turned the horrible event to hold something positive. His ears weren’t long like a rabbit, and the name stuck between the three of them. 

“With extra honey?” He probes hopefully. 

“Only if you promise to keep your sticky fingers to yourself.”

Mal puts a hand to his chest, leaning back dramatically. “I’m not five anymore! I won’t make a mess with honey like a baby!” The petulance said otherwise, making the pair giggle. Ankaurk waves his hand dismissively in the direction of the Havermoon manor. 

“Shoo, little ears. I can feel your tutor’s eyes on me from over here.” The time for idleness passed. There was always something for him to do at home. Mal jumps from the wall and leaves before the tutor could come to find him and pull him inside by his ear. 

“Promise?” He asks, looking over his shoulder. 

“I promise.” Is always his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> All these characters belong to my good friend and dm Felix, who is the entire reason this universe exists.  
Malachi's current age is 25, but here he's much younger.  
Fact: this was originally titled Laziness


End file.
